Chapter 1

This is a terrible beginning for my story but I had to start somewhere.

My name is Kitty Sweetbum and I have no recollection of my biological mom and dad because I really never met them.

I was adopted by the Sweetbum family after I was deposited in a payphone cube by some anonymous donor probably too busy to care for six-month old baby with ugly pointed ears.

It was obvious I had no happy smile on my face for the whole human race more than likely uninterested in such responsibilities in a diminishing economy. I don’t remember too much about the Sweetbum family except that I had a memory of eating a soft-boiled egg each morning with a tiny fork in a little alcove under the staircase when I was right about preschool age with the ability to eat by myself.

My adoptive mama told me that I was precocious and never stopped asking questions from the time I got up until I said my prayers and went to bed at night. I guess that must have been something inside me because I still do it right up to this day.

There were no other children in this household and I guess that was a better deal for me because I pretty much got whatever I wanted within reason. Just as I was getting ready to enter school with my brand new book-bag and my number two pencils, something happened that changed my whole life.

I was friends with the girl next door who was as different from me as could possibly ever be. I loved her like she was my sister and I wanted desperately to be just like her and make everybody smile. Her name was Diane and she had the whitest skin and bluest eyes with pretty blond pigtails that would swing like a pendulum clock when she walked down the street.

My hair was black and short with terrible bangs that almost came down to my eyebrows. At least I was able to hide my pointed ears that made me look more like a pussy cat and a lot less like a normal human girl.

I was out on the small stoop in front of our two-story house playing house with little Diane and she wanted to play with my red fire engine instead. I didn’t think that was a very good idea because a fire engine doesn’t fit into the “playing dolls” scenario. I took it from her hands and put it on the stoop and bent down to put my little baby doll back in the carriage when Diane hit me in the head with the thing and caused a cascade of blood to cover my face making me look a lot worse off than I actually felt inside.

Of course, when I went inside to mama, she was noticeably upset and put me in the car for a quick drive to the emergency room at the hospital.

They fixed me up real fast and I tried to remember what they did so I could incorporate that into my game of playing doctor and nurse when I had a male friend to be my partner. My blood sample was sent to the lab and the next day there was an ambulance at our front door with a doctor, a nurse and two policemen to take me into “custody”.

That seemed real strange to me because I didn’t hit anyone. I was the one that got hit and if they were going to take anyone into custody, it should have been Diane. The doctor told my adoptive parents that I would have to go with them since they had not gotten final adoptive rights as yet and there some “anomalies” with my blood that needed to be investigated before I could be released back into their custody.

That was the last time I saw my adoptive mama and daddy and I was sent to the Weston Institute for Special Offspring located on a huge campus behind a high stone wall way out in the country.

There were an awful lot of kids in that Institute and I really didn’t know why I was there because I hadn’t done anything wrong.

The doctors took a lot of blood samples and even samples of my pee to analyze on their huge noisy machines in the basement. I was glad I didn’t have to go down in that basement because the other kids told me that once you went down there, you never came back.

I have to admit that scared me a little bit because they still hadn’t told my why my blood was so “Special” and why I had to be separated from my adoptive parents just before I started school that following week.

Then, they started to give me all kinds of tests that didn’t make much sense to me. It looked like they were doing things that they had done a lot before but they didn’t really know what to make of me because I didn’t respond in the way that a normal seven year old would respond in a similar situation.

In fact, they transferred me from the main building to the single story building in the rear that had a lot more treatment rooms and labs than in the entire main building complex. They sort of kept us all away from each other and I sensed that it was because they didn’t want us to learn what was going on just by talking to each other and making our own conclusions.

I there more than a year when they started sending me tutors to school me in the subjects that normal eight year old kids learn in school and managed to handle everything with very little effort. The following year at nine years of age I started to read a lot of the textbooks for the classes ahead of me because I was bored with my year eight studies and needed to accelerate my rate of learning.

By the time I reached eleven, I had completed all the requirements of graduating high school and they seemed stumped on what to do with me academically. They allowed me to keep my own journal and promised they would not look at my work. Of course, they lied through their teeth but I didn’t mind because I like the away it allowed me to organize my reason for living at a time when so much was unsure and untried.

They started on my physical side at that time and by the time I was fourteen, I was Olympic level for gymnastic training and had bested some of the girls that made it on the National Tennis team without really working up a sweat.

One of the things that I noticed around this time was that I was developing my sexual side a bit slower than the other girls of my age and most of them were already learning how to hump and do things that I thought sounded real interesting and something that I probably would enjoy quite a bit.